


there's always more to say

by orphan_account



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Jacob as Rose, Kevin as the Doctor, No Plot/Plotless, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What could plain Jacob Bae from the Estate offer compared with all that? What could he offer a Time Lord, last of a species so revered that they’d practically passed into legend?He exhaled.Nothing, that’s what.
Relationships: Bae Joonyoung | Jacob/Moon Hyungseo | Kevin
Kudos: 12





	there's always more to say

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly don't even know what this is

“Off you go then!” 

Jacob frowned in confusion. “Go where?” 

The Doctor bounced on his toes excitedly, prodding him to the doorway that had just appeared, courtesy of the TARDIS. “To the wardrobe, of course! We have a ball to go to!” 

“Ball?” Jacob frowned as he nudged his into the wardrobe room. “What ball?” 

“The Plyathians are throwing us a thanksgiving ball for negotiating that peace treaty,” he beamed, slipping his hands into his pockets. 

“Oh, right.” He plucked aimlessly at a nearby jacket, remembering the Prime Minister’s pointed remarks about his ‘obvious lack of breeding, common speech and appalling lack of etiquette.’ “You mean they’re throwing you a ball, then. You did it, I just hung about in the gardens, mostly.” 

“Of course you’re invited- we’re a team, Jacob! Off you go and choose a tux then! Don’t want to be late to our own ball!” 

He tried to smile, all the while thinking of French courtesans and ballrooms and rude Plyathian Prime Ministers and couldn’t summon up even the appearance of enthusiasm. “Yeah…Know what Doctor? Might give this one a miss. ‘M a bit a tired, actually- might get an early night.” 

He stared at him incredulously. “What? You love to dress up, and I am giving you carte blanche to go mad and dress up to your heart’s content- and you don’t want to come?” 

He shrugged. “Don’t feel like dressing up. But you go ahead and have fun.” 

“You don’t feel like- Jacob you can wear the most lavish suit you can possibly think of! There’ll be a thousand lights and little cakes and bananas and dancing, Jacob! You love to dance!” 

He gave a weak smile. “Sounds like fun, but I’m gonna get an early night. You better get moving, or someone might eat all the little cakes.” 

“Jacob-” 

“I’ll see you in the mornin’, Doctor,’ he interrupted, not wanting to argue about it any longer. “Have fun!” 

With that, he strode out of the wardrobe room and into the corridor, praying the TARDIS would move his room close-by. Sighing in relief when he spotted the familiar door, he made for it and closed it behind his, locking it for good measure, hoping the TARDIS would move the doors around again. 

The TARDIS hummed almost grumpily and did just that, sending his door far away, hopefully somewhere at the back of the TARDIS and near the Eastern swimming pool. It’d take the Doctor ages to find his back there, and he’d likely have long given up by then and gone to the party. 

Jacob sighed with relief and slumped onto his bed. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t feel like arguing with the Doctor about going and he really didn’t feel like standing around at a formal ball, either, being looked down on by everyone there for using the wrong knife or fork, or saying the wrong thing. 

And he definitely didn’t feel like watching the Doctor flirt with every man there- except for him that is. 

Because really, he’d been right. He did love to dress up- or at least, he’d used to. He’d loved to wear posh clothes and dance and pretend to be something other than a chav from a council Estate. He’d loved to see the look in his eyes when he looked at him in his finery, and the possessive glare that would scorch anyone who tried to pay the slightest bit of attention to him. 

Or at least, he’d loved the look in the last him’s eyes, because this him didn’t look at him at all, really. Not anymore. 

He’d always hoped that if he dressed up enough, that if he acted posh enough, he’d see past the ignorant Earth guy with the accent, that he’d see that he could be what he needed, that he’d love him the way he loved him. 

But it hadn’t worked out that way at all, and he’d learned that there was no point pretending to be anything other than he was. He’d learned that his first Doctor had loved him anyway, common accent and all, that he hadn’t needed the posh clothes to notice him, that he’d seen so much more to him than he ever had. 

Remembering how this Doctor had boasted of Reinette’s many accomplishments, he cringed. 

Maybe his first Doctor had seen more to him than there really was. 

Because he’d also learned that this new Doctor didn’t think he was enough, that he wanted something more, much more than he could ever be. He'd been pushing him away- this was the first time in weeks he’d actively sought his company for something, and it was likely only because he felt guilty after Mickey and the parallel world. But oh, he'd been dancing away, pushing him away for weeks now and had run straight to Reinette- clever, handsome, accomplihed Reinette with his musical talents and political prowess and refined speech and royal status. 

What could plain Jacob Bae from the Estate offer compared with all that? What could he offer a Time Lord, last of a species so revered that they’d practically passed into legend? 

He exhaled. 

Nothing, that’s what. 

He didn’t have any of those things. He had no real breeding or education, no clever speech or important ideas, no knowledge of etiquette or royal protocol. Even the Plyathian Prime Minister had noticed how out of place he was at the treaty meetings and told him bluntly that he didn’t belong, that he had nothing to offer and he had no business being there. And the worst part of it all was that he was right. He had none of those things. All he had was his love for the Doctor, for the TARDIS and his life with them, and really, what use was that to the Doctor? Whatever his first Doctor had felt, it was clear that this Doctor didn’t return his feelings. What good was his love to the Doctor? 

He’d been pushing him away and trying to show him in his way that things had changed, that he had changed, and he’d been clinging to him anyway, fighting the distance with everything he had. 

But now he had to face the truth; there was nothing left to fight for. 

His Doctor was gone, and in his place was a man who didn’t love him, didn’t want him and had made it clear that he would never be enough for him. 

Leaning back against his pillows, he sighed. And that was why he hadn’t wanted to attend the ball tonight; what was the point? What was the point in dressing up as something he wasn’t, pretending to be something he wasn’t and watching everyone look straight through him? 

He didn’t belong in a place like that. The Doctor knew it, and the Prime Minister knew it. 

And most importantly, so did he.


End file.
